


Captain Alaska

by Dunnrulestheworld, SociopathicAngel



Series: Creative Writing Final Project [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Captain Alaska is a uselessly wonderful human, Creative Writing Final Project, This was a parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:44:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6775030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunnrulestheworld/pseuds/Dunnrulestheworld, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SociopathicAngel/pseuds/SociopathicAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you're related to one of the most famous superheros in the world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain Alaska

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dunnrulestheworld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunnrulestheworld/gifts).



Roger Graham Stevens was not a superhero. He wasn’t what anyone would call skilled, or even particularly noteworthy. Most that knew him would describe him as “incidentally useful.” Roger had only one real skill, and that was the ability to be horribly unlucky at precisely the right time, a gift that earned him the nickname “The Accidental Hero.” He’d never intended to earn the title, and certainly never expected to be able to fill the shoes of his cousin, who  _ was _ a real superhero. When you’re related to  _ the _ Captain America, why even try to force the impossible, right?

But the Universe doesn’t tend to care what people intend. If it had a plan in mind for an individual, it wasn’t about to be swayed by something as simple as lineage. 

The first time was back in high school gym class, when Roger had somehow managed to ping the fire alarm just right with a  _ way _ off-sides tennis ball, triggering the school’s sprinkler system and inadvertently rescuing a chemistry class on the other side of the school that had just been trapped by a fire created by an experiment gone wrong. The next was on his first day working as an assistant at a local bank. He’d dropped a roll of quarters, which exploded everywhere, and was just about to retrieve them when an armed robber burst in. Startled, Roger had stumbled back, slipped on the spilled coins, and kicked the police-call button under the desk on his way down. The Chief of Police had given him some sort of congratulatory speech after the robber had been taken away, but thanks to the concussion Roger couldn’t remember any of it. 

His whole life was sprinkled with accidental saviour moments. Spilling the spaghetti sauce at the local orphanage, causing the chef to remake it and discover that the first batch had actually contained rat poison and  _ not _ salt like she’d thought, falling down a flight of stairs and taking out a Chitari that had been about to blow up a bunch of hostages during the big Battle of New York. It made sense to move away from civilization, to get some peace in the quiet of Alaska. So, Roger made a home in Chicken, population of eight including myself. 

The most excitement the town got was when poor Mr. Felton had to be airlifted to a hospital after getting hit by a moose while on his way in on his snowmobile. Mrs. Felton, the innkeeper, grocer, baker, and knitter, had taken Roger in early on. Roger had proved to have some small talents that deemed him worthy of staying: his ability to assemble Ikea furniture on the first try being a big one of them. The town seemed to like him well enough, despite him being the youngest of them all. Dr. Hankins was the town physician, pharmacist, veterinarian, and taxidermist. Mrs. Hankins was the town mayor and event organizer. Mr. Reed was the pastor, funeral director, mortician, and (oddly enough) the butcher. The Baxter brothers lived just outside of town and traded their game and lumber frequently, the older of the two, Perry, was also the town’s pilot. Roger held the title of snow shoveller, salter, furniture assembler, and impossible task-doer. 

It was a quiet, easy life, and it’d just make sense for that to get messed up somehow. Which is why Doctor Victor Von Doom, supervillain extraordinaire, had the sudden, rash decision to use a small Alaskan town to play host for his latest Doom’s Day Device. Which, incidentally, just happened to be the town that Roger Stevens had relocated to.

Roger had been out doing his morning shovelling, which was the only real job he held here, when Doom appeared in the middle of the street with a large, sinister looking device and two equally large and sinister looking robots. Roger, having no normal sense of self preservation to speak of, wandered closer to get a better look. 

“Hey,” Roger called out, edging out into the ice covered street. “What are you doing?”

Doom glanced over his shoulder, then dismissively waved a hand in his direction. The robots immediately turned on him, and just as quickly slipped and crashed down onto the ice. He gave one a little nudge with his boot, and it slid directly into a power line across the street. The whole thing toppled, taking down a flagpole and the town’s singular stop sign in the process. 

_Oh freckle,_ Roger gave a large mental sigh. _There goes the wifi._ _Mrs. Hankins is going to kill me._

Roger stumbled back to avoid the flailing, sparking power lines, and tripped over the flagpole. Doctor Doom was cackling at him, already turning away to fire up his device. 

“You have failed,” Doom cried triumphantly. “And now Doom shall prevail!”

Now, Roger didn’t know what the thing did or what would happen if it was fired up, but he  _ did _ know that if a big name supervillain was playing with a big, sinister looking machine, it probably would not have a favourable outcome for general humanity. So, Roger Stevens decided to go against the one thing he had been passively avoiding for his entire life. He decided to be a hero. 

And spectacularly failed. 

Roger scrambled to his feet, flailing briefly and ineffectively at the flag that had gotten caught around his neck before hefting up the top of the stop sign and flinging it with all his might at Doom. He, of course, missed. Doom barely blinked as it sailed by, ricocheting off the device, then Mrs. Felton’s car, and finally hitting Roger in the face. Doom stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to figure out how exactly to respond to that. 

“You are an amusing fellow. Perhaps, once the world is in ruins, Doom will keep you around for entertainment,” He mused, turning back to his device.

_ Oh freckle. _

Several things happened simultaneously after that. Firstly, the townspeople had finally noticed something going on and were beginning to poke their heads out to find out what. Secondly, a large, high-tech looking jet landed at the end of the street, its ramp dropping immediately to release a very determined looking Captain America. And lastly, Doom slammed his metal covered hand down on the machine’s panel, which immediately exploded with enough force to send him flying back into the (already dented) side of Mrs. Felton’s car. 

Roger regained his feet, still holding the sign and still helplessly wrapped up in the flag like some glorified cape. His cousin hurried over, brow creased in patriotic concern.

“You alright, kid?” Captain America asked, putting a steadying hand on Roger’s shoulder when his newly acquired cape threatened to blow him over.

“Yeah,” Roger said, surprised even to his own ears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What happened here?”

Roger shrugged. “Doctor Doom showed up and started messing with that machine thing, then he set his robots on me and well,” he paused, waving to indicate the general destruction around them.

“You stopped him? On your own?” Steven Rogers asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. I did. I think? Yeah, I think I did,” Roger Stevens said, starting to smile. Had he done something right for once?

Captain America grinned. “What’s your name, kid?”

Mrs. Felton materialized at their elbows, startling both of them. “Why, this boy here is our very own Captain Alaska of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, this was 100% a superhero parody story I had to write for creative writing. I love Roger Stevens with all my heart, but he is more fictional than already fictional superheros. I'm only uploading this because I have to really. Roger is the thought child of Dunnrulestheworld, who was lovely enough to give me permission to write him an origin story of sorts.  
> The town of Chicken, Alaska is 100% a legit place. It's population is 7 people as of 2010.


End file.
